Harry Potter, The power of Sight
by hunter dude
Summary: *DISCLAIMER* ABUSE HEAVILY MENTIONED IN CHAPTER 1. Harry is taken from a heavily abusive home when Vernon tries to gain influence with the local police, see how Harry's life changes when he is not only allowed to use his intelligence and guile, but is no longer influenced by the plans of a senile old man. Criticism and flames welcome and encouraged.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

A Most Unfortunate Night.

The night quieted considerably, as many parents pulled they're bitterly complaining, costume clad children into their homes and locked the doors for the night. The chilly October wind whipped and tore at the midnight black cloak the tall man wore as he walked confidently down the street. He may be hunted and whispers of his self-proclaimed name and title as Dark Lord may give many children and even adults pause, but the man was not some necrotic being of unimaginable power and influence as much of his propaganda proclaims him. No, he was not all powerful, and he can be beaten, but he has not been beaten in duel or combat in so long he may as well take the title of god of war as his own. He was the Dark Lord Voldemort, and he walked with the confidence his station as such provided him. At least until a force slammed into his leg and he landed gracelessly onto the damp sidewalk in a tumbled heap of limbs and clothing.

"I'm so sorry sir! Let me help you up!" a small girl nearly squeaked down at the figure, her face flush from running down the entire street before whipping around the corner just a bit too quickly for the figure to react. This lack of foresight and inability to evade the "attack" left one of the most powerful wizards to ever exist completely and utterly speechless as he looked up at the young girl. She couldn't have been more that 8 with her curly blonde hair in ponytails and a little angel costume and bag of candy clutched tightly in her small hand, the other reaching for him. A small silver charm bracelet glinted on her outstretched arm, only four charms glittered on the wrapped length of silver chain. A snake, a lion, a badger, and a raven. What the little girl thought she could do to help the far taller man off the ground he knew not, but as she reached closer to take the man's hand a green bolt flashed from the side and the small girls bright, concerned eyes faded from their original lively blue green, to a dull grey. She swayed slightly before the heavy bag of candy and already off-balance stance forced the girl to fall next to where the Dark Lord was still stunned on the ground in confusion. This immediately broke the spell on the man as he leaped to his feet and silently 4 green bolts fired nearly simultaneously from the bone white yew wand that appeared in his hand from seemingly nowhere. He did not know who killed the unsuspecting girl and he did not care, all his faithful entourage fell with shock written plainly on their faces. The man slowly picked up the glinting charm bracelet off the girl's lifeless wrist and cast another much darker spell. The lights on the street seemed to flicker and dim as a black aura surrounded the bright silver charm of a snake on the girl's bracelet. He chuckled darkly over the proverbial pile of bodies in the street at how fitting it was to choose the snake of all the charms. Regret over the loss of such great potential he saw in her yet un-awakened magical core. It was so soon to awaken, and he had sensed great potential when he looked into her eyes. A loss worthy of retribution, and retribution was swift. He calmly stood, knelt to close the unnamed girl's eyes as he left, and walked to the small space between two houses. He looked closer and suddenly was standing before a home that was simply not there to the average passerby. He emotionlessly walked up to the door and broke the ward on the lock with a flick of his wand, the magic rushing out and violently tearing apart the structure of the spell in less than a breath, before the heavy sound of a bolt clicking back was heard. He had no need for stealth. Their own defenses made it impossible to escape him now. His targets would be completely at his mercy.

"Leave here Moldywarts!" An angry man with messy black hair yelled at the intruder with pure fury in his hazel eyes. "I will not let you hurt my family!" he called before streaks of green, red, and other various colors flooded the space of the entry way. Now the Dark Lord may have a god complex, but the man was SMART. His defenses were of his own creation and the spells constant flow splashed off his form fitting construct of wards, blood magic, runes, and raw magical energy. He walked casually into the home and almost whimsically flicked his wand extending only a fraction of his considerable magical power. The man flew into the wall an invisible force throwing him hard enough to not only crack his ribs and spine, but also the heavy support beam of the house. The intruder looked up nearly distracted as he took the life of a man who had constantly meddled in his plans. He expected the feel the usual joy of the magic twisting darkly and the unholy spell killing the target with the ease of flicking a muggle light switch. What he felt instead shocked him. He felt his spell hit, he felt the magic with the barest connection to its caster move toward the heart and brain of his target. Then he felt nothing. The magic was gone. His eyes snapped to the incapacitated man and saw his unconscious form take in a seemingly shallow breath and cast again with more power this time. This time the breathing stopped. The Dark Lord, who has cast that spell more times than any in history, was utterly confused. He could still hear the crying of his target, and the frantic scratching of something upstairs, but now he did not care. He looked inside himself and soon found what he was looking for, his magical core. It was still bright as ever. He looked closer trying to figure out what happened to his spell. Then he felt it. His power was leaking out slowly. He traced the connection and found it directed to the charm bracelet still clutched in his hand. The small snake charm twitched and moved slightly before growing considerably. Its silvery body sprouted scales as it forced itself to life using his magic. He attempted to drop it as he felt more power sucked from him and into the now growing snake in his hand. The creature slithered up his arm stiffly and encircled his arm three times before becoming still, her green scales flashed silver in the dim light of the home and he could feel the warmth of the creature even though his clothes.

"Nagini. I will call you Nagini." The Dark Lord hissed at the snake in parseltongue. He felt the snake nod against his bicep before he checked his core again. It was dangerously low now, but this did not worry the man. Even at this low his core was still far larger than most wizards. He quickly took to the steps and approached the room he heard his prey in last. His steps silent and sure he continued to the door before a hiss sounded from his side. A flash of dark green lit up the hall and devoured a ward structure the man had not noticed before. The snake seemed to already be making itself useful. The dark lord took down his shield and walked to the door, before dramatically blasting it off its hinges without pausing in his stride. The woman inside screamed, her light red hair whipping around her and the bundle she protectively stood over. Her bright green eyes captured his own dark brown and he pleasantly stated, "If you wish to live, move aside." The wind outside roared, nature herself seeming to mourn what was about to come. She stared defiantly pushing every drop of her magic into a set of bloody runes delicately drawn on a young toddler's still bald head. She staggered as the room flashed gold and the runes disappeared. Shocked she seemed to panic and tried to draw her wand. A green flash stopped the movement dead before a voice softly flooded the room, "Such a waste. So much potential."

Now, if someone heard that statement they might think the Dark Lord was mourning the death of the mother he just slew in cold blood. They would be wrong. He uttered these words as he looked at a small toddler, and felt the power rolling off him in waves. If his own core was the sun, this mere child's un-awakened core more resembled a solar system in scope and raw potential. He was awestricken for a moment realizing the prophecy was certainly about this child. Then he struck. Distracted by the loss and death that had plagued this day, he did not notice the blood reappear on the child, nor did he see the impossible happen. He did however FEEL the wrongness of the spell hitting. His magic was Corrupted in that moment and turned against its master. With a mind of its own it shot out in a wave, turning from a sickly green bolt to a bright and vibrant golden wave. It washed over the room and shined out the window as bright as the sun, and the aftermath was simply untenable. The Dark Lord Voldemort felt his body die, he felt the total and complete destruction of his being and the fragmented soul that was still in his body suddenly was under incredible strain. The tethers he had planted meticulously in carefully picked safehouses and hidden away all began to glow a horrible green as gold shot down the tethered connections faster than light. It assaulted the various connections and began to burn away at the souls inside the objects heating them to nearly white hot. The screaming hiss of a snake was heard, and a faint flash of silver combated the powerful golden magic before both faded away. The objects stilled in their various hiding places, all of them awakening at once, fighting to be the first to do the duty imprinted on the magic inside them.

Back inside the home of the late James and Lilly Potter, young Harry James Potter lied still in his crib, his eyes shifting around seemingly unfocused as he followed and traced the ebb and flow of the recently freed magic that had yet to settle around him. His young mind did not know what had happened but, but a talent not seen since the time of Merlin himself had awoken this night. A talent that will change magical theory forever and rewrite the laws of magic as we once knew them. The magic slowly danced back into the young boy through a newly formed scar on his head, a small lightning bolt that slowly closed fading to an angry red with flecks of gold. The boys eyes once a beautiful emerald green flashed with golden power for a moment, that slowly faded to become enchanting specs and flakes in his eyes, as they slowly closed, Morpheus taking the child into his care. The child did not awaken for the fire and smoke that began to fill the space. He did not awaken when a giant of a man picked up the infant, and he did not awaken when he was left to a family who could not love him because of the ill contrived notions of family of a man too old to be of sound mind. And thus, the legend of the boy-who-lived was born.

8 Years Later…

On a quiet street in a perfectly normal neighborhood, a young boy with bright emerald green eyes and shoulder length wavy black hair hid in a small corner of the cupboard under the stairs, his breathing was nearly silent, and his eyes were wide with terror. The monsters that "cared" for him were having company tonight and the scars from their last dinner party gone wrong still burned on his chest and back. The horrid red welts heal quickly, for reasons yet unknown to the boy, but the walrus of an uncle took that as invitation to "punish" the child more frequently and violently for any reason they could possibly find. The child had decided long ago that the best way to avoid the pain was to become completely invisible to the family unless directly called by the horrid caretakers, and get every chore done quickly and perfectly timed. He knew this was not exactly normal but having never known anything outside the house and yard, there was little he could do. He could hear the laughter and conversation that flowed seemingly easily in the room down from his own cupboard, as the putrid excuse for a man helped the large police man to another glass of brandy. The boy's uncle has spared no detail in describing how horrible his punishment would be if he made so much as a peep and made sure that the "Freak" understood how easily he could get away with any punishment he implemented, even though the police chief and his family were in the other room. He tensed, every underdeveloped muscle in his malnourished form screaming at him to run or disappear as a set of light footsteps came dangerously close to his door. They were delicate, light, and very foreign to his highly sensitive hearing.

"What's in here daddy?" an innocent young female voice asked on the other side of the door. "I don't think many people lock a door this many times!" She seemed to giggle as she started to unlatch and pull at the set of four locks that held him prisoner. He could hear the familiar heavy footsteps of his uncle rushing down the hall, as the child unlocked the next lock. He panicked, the only thought on the young child's mind was the pain he would endure if anyone saw him during one of the Dursley's many dinner parties. The girl unlocked the next lock. "Don't open that door little girl!" He heard Vernon nearly shout, mild panic lasing his voice. The tone made the girl hesitate on the last bolt, before a strong deep voice said, "Actually Vernon I am quite curious why you have four locks on a door in the middle of your home. You wouldn't mind if I looked, now would you?" a hint of steel in the man's tone making it abundantly clear that it was not a request. The young girl took this as permission to indulge her curiosity and undid the last latch of the small door. Light flooded the young boy's vision as the door swung easily on its hinges. A startled gasp was heard as his striking emerald eyes met the hazel orbs of a young girl with little blonde pigtails and a clean peach dress. Her eyes seemed to tear up as she stumbled back into her father, a strongly built man in a nice suit. This confused the boy greatly, however he decided it was best to stay silent for now, squeezing his pitiful form closer to the shadow of the corner, nearly disappearing as he did so, however the damage was already done. The young boy's eyes trailed up to see a flash of a dozen emotions cross the face of the man, until his chiseled jaw set in what could only be absolute rage, as the man took in the sight of the child before him. He could not have been more than 6, yet his cheeks were sunken and his skin seemed to barely cover his skull, stretching horribly over his high cheekbones, the child's hair seemed completely uncared for as it tumbled in a knotted mess down just past the top of his shoulders, his nearly skeletal form only barely covered by the rags he wore, scars from numerous burns, cuts, beatings, and other indescribably painful 'punishments' clearly visible on his far too pale skin. The man took a small step toward the boy, completely ignoring the stuttered excuses his hosts were attempting to make. The boy flinched. Violently. And seemed to become somehow even smaller as he pulled his stick like legs closer to his chest, nearly skeletal hands covering the back of his neck, attempting to instinctually protect the vulnerability of his prominent spine. The young girl suddenly could look at him no longer and ran sobbing loudly to her mother, who had yet to look at what her daughter and husband were so affected by, only barely catching the words "He's so small" from her sobbing child. She looked panicked at her husband and the couple's eyes met, before the normally bright blue eyes of the police chief darkened to a near steel grey as he turned to the monsters they had just broken bread with. Who they had allowed their daughter so close to. "Vernon and Petunia Dursley. You are under arrest for child endangerment, criminal neglect, abuse, and if I have anything to say about it, attempted murder! You WILL come with me, and you WILL do so peacefully, as I will NOT hesitate to use force on the either of you!" The man stated in an icy calm rage, that spoke of the threat of violence. Vernon did not take well to his tone at all.

"You cannot speak to me like this in my own home! That child is a freak and absolutely deranged! We have done noth- " Vernon started his tirade before being taken to the floor by a single excessively strong punch to the head from the well-built man, out cold. Petunia screeched and held her 'duddikins' to her, making sure he could not see the violence that happened right before her. At this moment the little girl's mother realized exactly what was happening, and rushed to the cupboard releasing the girl into her husband's care before leaping over the downed form of Vernon in an impressive display of agility and motherly adrenalin. She nearly flew into the open door, before stopping dead in her tracks at the pitiful sight before her. While her daughter and husband only had a cursory glance of the boy, she analyzed every centimeter of the child before her. "Bloody Hell" was all she could think for a long agonizing moment as she looked over the shivering form of the tortured child. His shoulder and most of his right arm were covered in old burns the already pale skin splotched with angry red, his legs had the marks of old cuts and fresh bruising, his face had a few distinctive marks of cuts and burns, many crisscrossing in odd patterns, his chest and back were hidden from her view as he shivered in a small ball. Too small she noticed, estimating his age at 6 rather than his actual 9 years. The boy looked at her, his haunted gaze seemed to pierce her very soul as gold flecks appeared in the emerald green, before he uttered almost inaudibly "Magic likes you." Before simply falling over, blacking out. The young mother was completely confused by what she heard, but instinctually moved with the grace and care to gently catch the boy and lift him easily out of the cupboard. _Too easily_ she realized as the boy couldn't have weighed even 20 kilos. If she had not been holding such a delicate child she would have likely killed the family before her for their actions, as she looked at his chest for the first time. She could see horrible bruises across his entire chest and abdomen, nearly covering the numerous scars and burns, she could _see_ his heart barely fluttering along between the prominent ribs that stood out prominently against his skin. "Henry! Henry call in the Calvary, I'm taking the car. He needs to go to the hospital, and you need to make sure these _scum_ get what they deserve." She yelled to her husband before wrapping the boy in her coat, and calling "Suzie, come with me."

Bright green eyes snapped open as a young boy jolted awake, only to flinch silently and squint until his eyes adjusted to the bright white of the room he was in. Scared and confused he looked around to try and understand where exactly he was. His arm hurt, but less than most of his body usually did. His head felt heavy and slow as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He was in a clean bed, much bigger nicer than the pile of old clothes and blankets he used as a bed in his "room". He noticed a tube sticking out of some tape in his arm, a transparent liquid slowly seeping into his arm. He looked at the bag of liquid on a metal tree like object to his left, before a beeping distracted him from the mysterious concoction seeping into his body. An odd box like object was next to his bed on a table, with some oddly colored lines drawing and redrawing themselves to the melodic beeping. The beeping seemed to slow as he took in more of his surroundings. What he mistook for white walls before, were curtains drawn around his bed. The space was still bigger than what he was used to, but that gave him little comfort as he began to panic at the lack of security the soft walls gave him. The beeping picked up suddenly and he felt terror seep into his heart. He was making noise! He couldn't figure out what was making the machine beep so loudly, and started looking for something, anything to make the sound stop, to save him from what came with noise. He noticed wires running down the loose shirt he was wearing and pulled at them hoping to free himself from their restrictive cold grasp. As the first one popped free the beeping suddenly became a long drawn out squeal like an alarm of some kind, and people began shouting outside. The boy panicked and cowered in spite himself. He curled into fetal position with his hands clasped around the back of his neck, instinctively protecting his most vital parts of his body. The curtains were drawn, and his eyes locked on the pretty face of a young woman with bright blue eyes filled with worry and strawberry blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail. She looked surprised and suddenly years of training took over as she slowly approached the child with hands raised, palms toward the boy as if he was an animal she was showing she did not want to harm. "It's alright," She spoke softly, her voice quiet and melodic as to not frighten the already terrified child before her. "I won't hurt you, but you need to calm down okay. My name is Ashley. Can you tell me yours?" He looked at her apprehensively. Was she trying to trick him into talking? Forcing him to give her an excuse to hurt him? He knew that making noise would get him hurt, but to not answer would only prolong the confrontation. "I don't know ma'am." He said simply, tensing unconsciously, waiting for the pain to come. "Don't know what?" she asked innocently, silently dreading the answer to her own question. "My name." He said slightly louder, but still barely a whisper. "They just called me Boy. Or Freak…" he said before seeming to think about it for a moment. "Is Freak my name?" He asked the nurse. The nurse's eyes began to water as tears came unbidden to the young woman. Never had she been trained for something like this. She had no idea what to do now. She was trained to talk slowly, calmly, with as non-threatening a tone as she could take, and always to use the name of the victim. This, she was told, was to make them more comfortable and calm them, and most importantly, make them know they are safe. She simply couldn't come to terms that anyone could be deprived so thoroughly, from such a young age that they did not even know their own name. Before she could figure out what to do the boys eyes seemed to change, small specks of gold seeming to form before her very eyes, and the child spoke at a whisper again, "Magic likes you to. Where is the woman magic brought me? Maybe she knows…" before looking past the woman in front of him to the now visible door. The woman started slightly but controlled the natural maternal instincts that screamed at her to comfort the boy and make sure nothing ever hurt him again. She came back to reality in that instant and caught the boy's eyes again. "I can go get Jane for you, the woman that brought you here, but first you need to let me look you over and reset the machine." The boy looked at her again before shaking his head. "If I make noise they hurt me. The machine makes a lot of noise. I don't want to hurt." The nurse could just barely stop the tears coming once again unbidden to her eyes. Blinking rapidly and breathing deeply in an attempt to compose herself she told the boy "Nobody will hurt you now. You're safe." He looked deep into her eyes as if he could read her thoughts for a long moment, before seeming to refocus his gaze on her face, the golden specks seeming to disappear from his emerald eyes as he said softly "I believe you." The boy relaxed slightly and uncurled so that he was no longer cowering before the woman. His arm was bleeding freely from where the needle in his arm moved a bit too far in his panic, but otherwise he seemed to have no immediate injuries. The nurse got to work speaking softly to him and explaining exactly what she was doing as she did it and why. The boy soaked up the knowledge like a sponge and listened attentively to her as he allowed her to fuss over him, patiently waiting for them to shove him back into his cupboard. Soon after she had applied some new tape and a cotton like pad to his arm she began to give him what she told him was called a 'physical' where she would take down a lot of information. They started with height and weight, and shortly after they began the woman's beautiful face was marred by a worried frown. He weight far too little for his apparent age, and his growth was stunted to be sure. "How old are you?" She asked carefully "I don't know." His quiet voice answered her. She calmed herself again, unsurprised but saddened before saying to the boy, "I'm going to fetch a doctor, and a specialist for you. Do you want to wait here alone, or should I get Jane for you now?".

"Is she the other one magic likes?" the boy asked innocently, the flecks of gold reappearing in his eyes.

"Y-yes" the nurse said hesitantly. She didn't think magic exists, but she couldn't tell that to a child if it is helping him. She could barely believe he should be alive, much less sane. "I'll send her in. Just relax on the bed and try not to move too much alright?" She said softly before hurrying out of the curtained off area. The boy could hear some words being said before a slightly older woman appeared at the point the nurse left. He noticed her worried expression and relaxed. It matched the expression the nurse had most of the time, and she didn't hurt him, so he assumed the nurses promise extended over the all the people that would visit him.

"You wanted me here?" Jane asked as she entered the small space and slowly sat in the chair next to his bed.

"Magic likes you. And you were the first person to help me." The boy stated simply. He was still speaking barely over a whisper, but his words were clear and seemed well thought out for a boy his age. The woman was still confused at his reference to magic and decided that would be the safest thing to ask the boy about.

"What do you mean when you say 'the magic really likes me'?" She asked softly looking into his emerald eyes. She noticed gold flecks of light appear in his eyes and begin to move around like flames dancing in his eyes. It would have been a beautiful sight if his face was not scarred and his eyes sunken as they were.

"You have a good aura. Nothing like the red aura I see if they notice me… You mean you can't see it?" He asked getting quieter as he spoke as if afraid of something.

"No. I don't see any auras. What color is it?" She asked soothingly. While she may not believe him, she couldn't help but be curious about it. If it helped him trust her and kept him calm she would play along.

"A light green. Like when Patunia's roses grow new leaves. Except your belly. It changes to blue there." He said with a smile, before frowning in thought. "You have someone inside you. He's really tiny." The woman's mind nearly ground to a halt at this. He couldn't possibly know. She hadn't even told Henry yet! Before anything else could be said an older man walked into the curtained off area without any preamble looking down at a clipboard reading over some papers on it. A woman accompanied him. The space was suddenly far too small for the boy and he involuntarily started to make himself smaller curling onto the corner of his bed with the metal bar firmly against his back, the cold smooth steel rubbing uncomfortably against his spine. The woman looked at him worriedly before turning on the man and woman who had yet to look up. She was suddenly furious and in a steely cold voice said "You are scaring him!" The doctor's attention snapped up from the clipboard in a slight panic before apologetically saying. "My apologies, I am Doctor Samuel Turner, and this is my associate Doctor Sara Rose. We are here to…" he began before looking at the boy and freezing mid-sentence, his eyes fixed on the young boy, or more specifically his forehead where he recognized a very specific red scar standing out sharply against the boy's pale skin. "Harry Potter?" He asked gasping, absolutely shocked by his appearance. "Merlin's beard." He muttered after.

After a lengthy explanation (lie) about how the squib doctor knew the boy's name when even the boy did not, one Harry James Potter's life was changed forever. He spent the next few months in the hospital's intensive care ward, and was given many different drugs, shots, and far larger meals with much more frequency than the boy was accustomed to. The boy was helped along every step of the way by the Nurse Ashely, who was the only person in the entire hospital who the boy would talk to, much to the disappointment of his assigned psychologist and numerous doctors. He would have been put into foster care, had Jane not immediately adopted the boy. After nearly 8 months of care in the hospital he was several stones heavier and much taller than he had been. His progress amazed the doctors as he reacted to the treatment much faster than they even considered possible.

The Dursley family were found guilty of all the charges Henry brought up in court as soon as a single picture of Harry's horribly scarred and malnourished form was shown to the jury, and many of them pushed for harsher sentencing when they were put in prison for 50 years, and Duddly was put into foster care.

It was July 31st when Harry was released from the hospitals care and while they did not know it yet, the Smith family's world would soon be turned upside down yet again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Accidental Magic

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was worried. His contact on Privet Drive told him of quite the disturbance some time ago, and since then he was personally looking after the boy. Or would have been if he could find the young wizard. It seemed that the police got involved and took the boy away faster than even he could get there. Their trail led to a hospital, however it was impossible to get close to the boy at the time as he was in a private treatment ward. Dumbledore was no simpleton. He knew that the ward Harry was in was only for the worst victims of trauma, however what he couldn't figure out is why it was taking them so long to discharge the young boy into foster care, where he could make him disappear from the muggle records and place him in a family of his choosing. He needed the boy to grow into the force for good that could defeat the dark lord when he returned to power soon. It wasn't until a month after the boy disappeared into the hospital that the old wizard saw him again, and to say he was shocked was an understatement. The boy was tiny and nearly covered in scars. He suddenly remembered the warning he received that fateful night of Halloween years previous when he dropped the baby off at the Dursleys home in Surry. Minerva had told him in no unsure terms "They're the worst sort of Muggles imaginable." Yet in his arrogance he did not listen. 'No. Not arrogance. Hubris.' He thought as he reflected on all he was doing at the time. All the paths he walked without faltering to take the advice of others he thought himself wiser than. He was sure they would take him and raise him as their own yet here he was obviously abused in horrific ways. The fact that he could even run the way the doctors had him running on those twigs that made up his legs was a miracle. He should have listened to his old friend's warning. It was nothing short of a miracle that the boy was even alive, as his mistreatment should have forced his magic to turn into an Obscurus. How was he supposed to fight the greatest Dark wizard to have even lived, if he could barely run? It was then that he noticed the woman and her family waiting for him at the end of the stretch of grass that he was practically stumbling down with the young nurse walking at his side. They had laid out a picnic and seemed to be encouraging the young wizard as he began to run more confidently, the nurse keeping pace by him easily, barely needing to walk quickly. The family cheered as he breathlessly stumbled to a halt by the blanket they had laid out and sat quietly as he could on the pillows the nurse directed him to, before the woman began to set out a verifiable feast fit for the Weasley clan. The wizened wizard stood watching them from afar under his borrowed invisibility cloak before nodding to himself. Maybe fate would make this work out in his favor, just this once. He disappeared with a crack, returning to his castle to prepare for the coming school year, and mentally prepare for the rant of a lifetime from one Minerva McGonagall as soon as the boy turned 11 and the ancient magic that created the letters postmark activated, invariably allowing her to know she was correct in her previous assessment of the family.

"Now, Harry." Henry said carefully as they drove closer to their house on the familiar Privet Drive. "We don't have much, so you will need to share a room for a while, but we will take care of you."

"But Daddy! Can't Harry have the guest room across the hall from me? Why does he have to share with me?" Young Suzie said from the back seat next to Harry, causing to boy in question to jump slightly at the loud noise.

"Darling," Jane started from the passenger seat, her stomach now very large from her pregnancy. "We talked about this remember, it will only be a few weeks and we will need that room for little John. You can share with Harry for a few years and then he will share with John, all right sweetie?" The girl blushed having forgotten about the talk her parents had given the young girl about the baby brother she would be having in only a few more weeks, as well as the rather embarrassing questions she asked during said conversation.

"I don't take up that much space anyway Suzie, you probably won't notice I'm there." A very quiet voice said from the back seat. Suzie had to strain to hear him, but never asked him to speak up. Not after the last time she was reprimanded by her parents for doing just that. She stopped the complaints at that, remembering the tiny cupboard they first found the young boy in. He had grown significantly since then and finally looked his age, of now 10 years. Only 1 year the girls elder. She blushed and looked out the window, letting her now long hair cover her face. She decided to make sure her parents stopped cutting her hair shoulder length when she saw Harry's hair at that length. She couldn't have shorter hair than a _boy_ after all.

"Here we are." Henry said from the driver's seat as he pulled into the driveway of their home. It was very similar to the Dursleys home, only having a slightly smaller building and slightly larger yard. This meant they had the same 3-bedroom 3-bathroom design Harry already knew, but with slightly smaller rooms and a much larger garden in the back. He knew Jane, his new adoptive mother, was very good with growing things, and always had freshly grown fruits, vegetables, and herbs to cook with. Her cooking always tasted much better than the horrible vegetables in the 'Diet' food that his aunt used to force him to make for dinner, and he always took a rather large helping when offered to him. He found that they would be rather upset if he didn't, so he slowly became accustomed to eating with them until he was full. He still flinched at noise, but the Psychologist Dr. Johnson always said that these things take time, and that it will eventually go away. She advised they ignore his flinch at the noises so that they would not embarrass him and make him uncomfortable. They tried to ignore the nervous habits, but he still noticed the worried looks they would give him as soon as they thought he was not looking.

They were soon headed for the door. Henry unlocked the door and Jane helped Harry inside and up the stairs to his and Suzie's room. They would be sharing until the baby no longer needed a nursery. A second bed was pushed up to a corner of the room near the door to the bathroom, while another sat against the wall by the closet. It was somewhat cramped in the room, but Harry found it downright roomy compared to the accommodations he was allowed for the majority of his life. Suzie pouted, but did not complain, having already gotten somewhat used to the bed over the last few weeks of it being there. The parents explained that they expected them to share without complaint, and they could figure out who will get what space for their clothing. Harry looked uncomfortable for a moment, before Henry and Jane laughed, and handed him a rucksack. He looked confused at the bright red bow on the top of the bag before they explained it was a birthday present and that he should take off the bow and open the bag. He did so, and pulled out nearly a weeks' worth of shirts, pants, and to his great embarrassment, boxers. Suzie giggled as he stuffed the boxers back into the bag with a crimson red blush. He seemed to flinch away from her loud giggling, but after seeing only amusement on the parents faces, he smiled as well.

The last of the summer was spent with Jane teaching him everything he would need to know to start school with Suzie this September. They figured he could go into school a year or two behind and stay with Suzie in their classes. Their daughter seemed rather happy with this talking excitedly about how she would finally have someone to talk to at lunch who didn't constantly talk about clothes other "girly" stuff. They were shocked at how quickly Harry learned, practically rushing through a year of material in barely a month. August rushed by in a flurry of paper, books, and Jane's lectures. John had been born August 2nd, having rather inconsiderately interrupted a lesson that had Harry enthralled and Suzie asleep, and was strong and healthy, albeit somewhat later than expected. The baby many times made Harry jump and flinch violently with his screaming for attention, but Jane had a gift for calming her child, that was only perfected as time went on. By the time September rolled around both Harry and Suzie, who had joined the study sessions, were ready for 4th year at Suzie's school, and passed their testing to entirely skip 3rd year. The parents were quite proud of their daughter and new son, as they both entered the school on their first day of 4th year. Harry continued to outpace the rest of the class, but hardly anyone noticed as the bespectacled boy was the quietest in the class, not even speaking for roll call, instead simply raising his hand. His teachers, however, definitely noticed the young prodigy in their classrooms, as every single assignment turned in by the boy was completely devoid of the errors they expected to see, many times expounding on the subject material past the expected standard of knowledge and correcting any mistakes made by the teacher. They even called Jane and Henry to a meeting to try to move him up a grade. When the idea was presented to Harry, he simply said "Only if Suzie is with me." Before looking down, never to meet the dean's eyes again for the duration of the meeting. Suzie, while smart, couldn't keep up with Harry and therefor, despite constant protests from the faculty, Harry stayed in the same year as Suzie. He did however, find a great love for reading, and practically ransacked the school's library, reading far past his level and researching anything that captured his fancy. He still exercised as prescribed by his nurse and friend Ashley, however he now did so to get stronger rather than regain the strength he was supposed to have. The year went by quickly for the family, the long days at the office left Henry irritable, but the clean house and well-behaved children reading and playing amongst themselves helped alleviate the stress of his day as he relaxed with his wife, even if they could only rest for a few moments before Jack would start screaming again. By the time summer came around again, Harry was top of his class. At his level they did not formally recognize this achievement, however Harry did earn himself and Suzie a day at the carnival that came to town that summer. Jane stayed home with John, but Henry took the entire day off for the occasion, and after exhausting the children, treated Jane to a wonderfully cooked dinner and nice wine. All seemed to be going well for the family, and Harry began to come out of his shell slowly but surely. Laughing and playing with Suzie, helping Jane in the kitchen, and even playing catch with Henry once or twice. It was nearly his birthday again when it happened. Suzie decided that a surprise party was in order, as she had recently learned Harry had never had one. She invited some of the friendlier classmates to their home and made sure to walk the long way home. She ignored her parent's requests that she tell Harry about the party and managed to interrupt every time her parents tried to broach the subject, to make sure he would be surprised for real this year. They walked into the door and a cheer erupted from the living room of the house "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" they called to Harry. Jane and Henry were stunned as they did not expect this either, before looking to Harry with nervous fear in their eyes. Harry flinched and jumped, before something completely unexpected happened. A wave of translucent golden energy erupted from the young man and washed over the house. It pushed all the guests violently to the floor and shattered all the glassware in the house. The windows were all violently blown out and the glass was immediately turned into sand. The house was plunged into chaos as the children began screaming, running from the "freak" out the back door and running to their various homes. Harry ran as well, or at least tried to. His vision blurred as his glasses had fallen from his face when he jumped and were little more than sparkling sand at his feet. He tumbled down and curled into a ball, nearly blind and terrified as memories assaulted his mind, screams of freak echoed in his ears and the pain of hundreds of burns, cuts, bruises, and broken bones raced to the forefront of his mind, but he did not scream. He did not make a single sound as the tears streamed down his face. Jane was immediately by his side, pulling him close to her chest and whispering in his ear to attempt to calm him. Ashley, who had been invited by Jane, stood in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded and covered by fine glass sand, not a single cut or scrape on her. She couldn't believe what she had seen, and her mind raced to process what was obviously something impossible. Then it clicked. The memory of their first meeting flashing to the forefront of her mind. 'The magic likes you to'. Could it be? Real magic?

While Jane comforted the terrified child they so lovingly brought into their home, Henry held his youngest to his chest protectively. He vaguely noticed that none of his family was affected by whatever gold light had pushed nearly everyone else so violently and nearly destroyed their home. He looked at his adoptive eldest with a mixture of suspicion, awe, and worry, before a harsh knock was heard from the door. He walked over nearly robotically, stepping past the silently sobbing boy and his shell-shocked daughter, to answer the door, He attempted to look through the peephole to see who it was, before realizing it would be pointless as it to had shattered into sand. He cracked the door open, to see a man with bright red hair, and an odd mixture of a tweed suit, a baseball cap, an umbrella, and an old briefcase.

"Ah hello, I am Arthur Weasley with the Ministry of Magic, this is my associate Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt." He said moving slightly to the side, so Henry could see the tall African American man in what appeared to be blue robes with bright gold designs.

"Henry Morgan, Police Chief." Henry began to introduce himself habitually before his mind caught up to the words he just heard "Did you say Ministry _of magic_?" the seasoned police officer asked in a no-nonsense tone.

"Yes. I believe it would be best if we came in and explained things. We will be sure to fix this mess to repay you for your time." Arthur offered as he stepped into the doorway. Henry numbly opened the door for the strange men and led them to the once decorated living-room. Kingsley looked around the room with a raised eyebrow and whistled lowly. "Whoever did this is one powerful child." He whispered to his friend Arthur. Arthur simply nodded.

"If you don't mind it may be better to fix this before we explain to your family." Arthur stated pulling what appeared to be a stick from his pocket. Henry looked somewhat confused before his jaw dropped. Arthur simply waved his wand, and everything started flying around rapidly repairing itself. The windows all reformed and solidified into crystal clear glass, much cleaner than they had been, all of the cups and plates that had shattered in the kitchen repaired and replaced themselves, even the table and cake, that were on the floor only a moment ago were back to their original positions, candles perfectly straight.

"How the bloody he-"

"Language!" Jane admonished absentmindedly.

"How in the world did you do that" Henry corrected himself as if nothing happened.

"Magic. That is precisely what we are here to explain. It seems that one of your children is quite gifted sir." Arthur stated politely.

"Harry." Henry stated quietly and as calmly as he could "Could you come here for a moment." It wasn't a question. Harry shakily stood, the torturous memories having faded. He walked silently to the living-room and stood just as quietly next to his adoptive father. "You once told Jane that magic liked her. These men now tell me that magic as real and demonstrated the impossible right before our eyes. Would you like to explain something to me?"

Harry looked up at him, before the gold flecks reappeared in his emerald eyes as they once did more than a year previous. He looked at the two strange men, causing them to gasp in surprise, staring intently at him, or rather his most prominent red scar. A scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. As they looked at him in shock, he looked right through them, and found the magical aura around them, before looking back at his father. "They make the magic flow through them and change it with the sticks. Magic doesn't like them like it likes mom, but they use it anyway. It wants to be used." Harry explained as if answering a test question. This explanation was not what any of the adults in the room were expecting. Kingsley was particularly intrigued by what they boy said and asked him "How did you know how our wands work?" His curiosity surpassing his common sense as he asked a child about advanced magical theory and wandcraft. Harry looked to his adoptive father and stayed silent.

"Special indeed." Kingsley jokingly said to Arthur as he simply nodded, nearly dumbstruck.

Henry decided the situation could use a firm hand to direct the conversation at this point before addressing the clearly insane men with attention spans like a squirrel. "Why don't we all sit, and you explain exactly what is going on and what needs to happen now."

"Right, right. Of course. You will have to excuse our rather unprofessional behavior, however this is highly irregular. I believe it would be best if we got Professor Minerva McGonagall to help explain things from here. Usually we are more than sufficient to clean up any damages and help the muggles forget what happened, however in this particular situation we believe Harry and you all would benefit most from a Professors explanation."

"Professor? Like a school teacher?" Suzie asked. After all why would the police need a school teacher to do their jobs?

"She is the deputy headmistress at Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry. I believe her experience in the field would be better suited for explaining this to you all, as she if far better versed in magical theory and explaining that theory to students with no background in magic. If you would be so kind as to allow me a moment to call her here." Arthur stated in as much a professional manner as he could, before stepping out of the room and sending a message via Patronus. It only took a few moments for a woman with a stereotypical witch's hat and robes to show up at the door with a loud crack before politely knocking on the door. The family looked curiously at the back door as the knocking sound reached their ears. Ashley, the closest to the back door, greeted the older Scottish woman and lead her to the living room where the rest of the growing party rested. She took one look at the young man standing by the couch before stating in a heated tone "That old buffoon! I knew something like this would happen if he left you with those horrible muggles and now look at you, why I've got to give that old coot a piece of my mind when I get back. He wo-" She ranted, her Scottish accent more prominent with her anger, before Henry interrupted the angry witch

"You know who left him with those monsters?!" He seethed with anger

"Yes! And I warned him that those muggles were vile. He should have never been left in their care."

"And who might I ask is responsible for him being left in their care?"

"Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. I assure you, I will be having a very long conversation with the man about keeping a much closer eye on his charges. Now that is not why we are here is it. Arthur, your message said it was urgent, but I see no danger that has not already passed. What seems to be the matter?"

"Ah.. well. It's hard to explain Professor." He started. "He seems to be more naturally capable with magic than many grown adults and seems able to… see it."

"See what?"

"Magic. Ma'am." Kingsley supplied for a nervous Arthur. "I didn't even see any signs of effort. Just a tinge of gold in his eyes."

"Ah. Well this is highly irregular. I take it you were too distracted to explain properly what is going on to the obviously rather nervous family, who are new to the magical community."

"err.. That's correct ma'am." Arthur stated, his face beginning to match the color of his hair under the incredulous gaze of his once professor.

"Lets all get some tea while I explain things to you then." Professor McGonagall stated patiently, before explaining to them how magic interacts with the world and the world in turn interacts with magic, and how some people are born gifted with magical talent and will many times be able to manipulate magic with some training. She answered the numerous questions with the patience of a seasoned teacher. By the end of the conversation Suzie had fallen asleep in her father's lap, while Jane had gone up to feed and put John to sleep. Ashley had stared with rapped attention to the wonderous lesson about the world around her, many connections being made in her mind to Harry's apparent miraculous survival of his abuse and subsequent impossibly quick recovery.

"So, Harry is going to be enrolled in your schools first year, on his 11th birthday? It seems Harry should be enrolled this year then." Jane said with some satisfaction. It seemed Harry might find a school suited for him after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

September 1st, and the changes it brings.

The days seemed to fly by for Harry. Eventually July 31st rolled around, with an exciting albeit expected letter, as well as a visit from the Deputy Headmistress. Harry was taken with his adoptive father to the leaky cauldron, before stepping up the brick wall in the alley behind the run-down pub.

"I thought you said were going to the wizard shopping district? Diagon Alley you said? I see no shops." Henry stated with skepticism

"She is" Harry said, before stepping up to the brick wall in front of the adults and placing one hand against it. An invisible pulse of magic made the stones blocking their way disappear, rather than the usual dramatic rearrangement, thus revealing an elaborate brick arch, and the rather… Extravagant… sight of Diagon Alley. Henry merely grunted, hiding his amazement and bemusement at the sight before him.

"Yes, well. Come along. We must visit your vault at the bank Harry." Minerva stated after a moment of wonder at how the boy could have seen through such advanced spell work, much less activate it without the code everyone else used.

"Ma'am. I didn't know I had a vault."

"You don't really think your parents would have left you with nothing do you Harry? While the Dursleys may have been horrible, your parents were some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure of teaching."

"You knew my parents?" Harry said at the same time as Henry asked "You taught his parents?"

"Yes. Now I am quite busy, so we must get you your supplies. Come along, and ignore the stares, I will explain that once we are finished with the errands we need to run." Minerva stated in her own no-nonsense tone that shut up even the police chief, a man who is very used to having the last word.

The odd trio walked quickly toward the building labeled Gringotts Henry looked rather concerned at the armed guards at the entrance to the building. Not because they were armed, but because they were Goblins. Minerva walked briskly past them to an open teller, before realizing Harry has stopped to stare at the guards. However, before she could turn back for the child, he bowed low to the guards and stated simply. "Thank you for your service." In his usual quiet tone. The goblins, just as shocked as everyone else at this, looked the boy up and down before nodding to him and returning to their stature still posts. Harry quickly caught up the older witch and joined her at the tellers' high podium. The goblin looked up at the trio before him.

"What business do you have for us today?" He asked in what seemed like a sneer to the humans but was very polite for a goblin.

"I need access to the vault of one Harry James Potter." Minerva started, producing a small key, "As well as a special vault for Dumbledore. You know the one."

"Ah. I see. Follow me please." The goblin stated and turned without waiting to see if the trio followed. They came to a hallway, then another hall, then a rather old looking cart on railway tracks. The goblin sat in the seat with some buttons and levers, and the trio followed suit. They were soon off at breakneck speeds down the tunnels. The goblin stopped the cart abruptly at a door and announced, "Vault six hundred and eighty-seven." He then got out of the cart and took the lantern off its hanger on the cart, shining it at the small lock in the enormous doors. Harry looked at the doors in awe, the golden flakes in his eyes pulsed slowly with power as he _saw_ the intricate magical locks and spells in the door. He then paused with a frown as he noticed a spot where the magical flow was slightly weak. "Mister goblin" He started as the goblin was about to take the silver key from Minerva. "Why is the magic weaker at this spot here?" He asked pointing to the second hinge on the right door. The goblin growled at him, and asked in a gravely tone "What do you mean weaker? Do you question the goblins warding prowess?"

"I don't mean to offend, I just wanted to know why the spot here is weak. If I just push a little like this…" He started before his magic visibly flared around him with a faint golden glow. A sharp crack could be heard before visible shimmering covered the door, fading quickly as a thunderous groan sounded, the right door visibly sagged slightly before a loud BOOM rocked the cave they were in and the right door fell inward. Resting heavily on a massive pile of gold coins. They could not unhear the tremendous string of curses in not only gobblygook and about a dozen other languages that poured from the goblin that day.

After about an hour of negotiations with the goblins, and another 20 minutes of Harry trying his best to show a team of a dozen goblins the weakness he used to literally blow the door to his own vault off its hinges by means of cascade failure, without triggering any of the goblins numerous alarms, they ended up leaving the goblin bank without starting an international incident and a good bit richer. Minerva decided they should get Harry his wand first rather than last, as she did not necessarily need to be there and could likely get the rest of his supplies and get them back on schedule while Olivander spent likely as long finding him a wand as it took for them to escape the bank. If only she knew how important this event would be.

As the trio walked into Olivanders shop, something strange happened. Granted something strange happened every time someone new walked into the strange old wandmakers shop, this particular level of strangeness was new to even Garrick Olivander.

"I wondered when I'd be seeing you Mister Potter." The strange wandmaker said with a twinkle in his eye Minerva was sure could rival even Dumbledore. "Lets see… hmmm…" Olivander began muttering before an excited "Ah!" was heard around the corner and behind a few shelves. The old man came back with the spring in his step belonging to a much younger individual.

"Here we are…" He said carefully taking a wand from a little black box. It was a beautiful work of skill and patience, but Harry barely glanced at the proffered wand, his eyes flashing gold for only the briefest of moments.

"That one will not work for me sir. It is a beautiful piece of work. Maybe this one…" He trailed off starting to walk deep into the shop as if in a trance. Garrick did not stop the boy, his smile growing slightly. It had been a very long time since a wand called to a wizard like one seemed to call for this boy after all. The boy slid a rolling ladder over the length of a shelf and pulled a box from the top most corner of the back most shelf in the shop. At the moment he touched the box, the twinkle in the old wandmakers eye died, and the man seemed to age decades before their very eyes. "Mister Potter. Are you sure about that particular wand? Do any others call out to you perhaps?"

"There is another wand over there, but it's call is weak. Should I fetch it as well sir?" Harry said gesturing toward where Garrick knew a Holly and Phoenix feather wand rested.

"Might be best if you did. The call may be different once you feel it in your hand." The old wandmaker said in a tone that convinced no one. Harry obediently fetched the other black box and placed both before him on the desk near the other wand he rejected earlier. He started with the wand Olivander had asked him to fetch and as he touched it the wand seemed to groan aloud. A golden glow still surrounded the boy and wand, however it seemed like the wand had difficulty sustaining a connection to the boy. Olivander immediately knew that the core of the wand yearned to be used by the boy, but the wood could not contain the power. Just as he suspected and feared. He knew of only one wood that could channel the power the boy seemed to show and that particular wood was notoriously unlucky and dangerous to wield.

"I see you were correct. That wand might work for a time, but it is not a fit for you. It seems you were drawn to the only wand in this shop I did not wish to show you. An experiment of sorts, a wand that both my father and his father failed to sell." Olivander began to launch into the story of the yet unveiled wand. "The wand you are so drawn to is a peculiar blend of wood and core that my own grandfather designed and made in his experimentation to tame the infamous elder wood. Elder wood is a powerful wand wood, but with a terrible history. Ever since the time of Beedle and Bard, the wielders of elder wands have had to contend with strife and danger in their lives."

"Beedle and Bard sir?" Harry asked curiously. He had never heard most wizard tales or lore as he was raised with muggles all his life, and while his knowledge of magical theory surpassed many of his soon to be peers, his knowledge of lore and culture was severely lacking.

"A story for another time I think, as I was saying mister Potter, this wand is not as simple as most of the wands in this shop." He said as he opened the black box, revealing a beautiful work of art. The wand was a rich pearlescent white with dark swirls of color down the length smoothed and oiled to a shine like that of an opal, from tip to handle it was perfectly straight. Once it got to the handle however, it changed. The handle was a darker shade, as if blackened by fire but Harry saw no sign of a seam in the wood nor cracks as if it were actually burned. The darker brown handle was adorned with beautiful swirling patterns of gold and white that seemed to glow and pulse with golden light as Harry drew his hand closer to the intricate handle. As Harry grasped the wand his eyes glowed for a moment, the same swirling patterns on the wand dancing in his eyes, before both glows vanished. Harry never felt more alive. He could always feel the magic around him, and while his vision was poor in the mortal realm, his vision was now unmatched in the magical world. He could see the auras of magic in and around everything, he could see the ebb and flow of the magic around them as it curled and caressed them, flowing in, and being redirected and pushed back out, subtly changing colors and forms as it danced freely before and through him. He knew by now that only he saw this and had mostly stopped remarking on the flow of a primal force of the universe. As he brought the wand closer to him, he suddenly realized it was not quite… perfect. It seemed to be scarred all up and down the beautiful and intricate handle and small scratches marred the seemingly perfect mirror finish on the wood.

"Sir…" Harry started quietly with a nervous pause. "I was sure these marks were not here before. Did I do something to the wand?"

"No… Those marks match your own marks. And will stay with the wand as they stay with you. It is most intriguing. This wand is a special wand indeed, it was made by my own great grandfather a few hundred years ago, as I was explaining earlier, however his notes on the wand were rather specific. The wand itself is nine and a half inches in length, made of elder wood, with an elder berry dyed handle, a practice that fell out of style when more appropriate wand dyes and wood mixing was introduced to the obscure art of wand making some years later, and has a core of Phenix feather, carefully dipped in the blood of a dragon. It is a most unusual pair as the rarity of the materials used and the complexity of making such a paring is beyond even me I'm afraid. Even the notes say no small amount of luck went into making this wand, though I'm sure you will learn of that potion some years from now. I would advise you take great care with this wand, if you manage to earn its trust it will be a powerful companion. You can do great things with this wand young Harry."

"I'll take both then. It is important to be prepared for anything after all." Harry stated looking to his adoptive father for the first time since entering the shop. The large man smiled down at his son, finally understanding something from the conversation, happy to be included and proud Harry remembered at least some of the advice he tried to teach the child.

"Of course Harry. How much for the wands and a proper care kit for them?" Henry spoke to the odd man, instinctively going for his wallet, before stopping himself and grabbing the pouch of gold coins in his front pocket instead. He couldn't fathom the heavy golden coins being used so easily by the magical community, but he figured something of the mythic art of alchemy had to exist for the abundance of gold he saw.

"I would recommend only getting one wand. Wands get jealous quite easily." Olivander began protesting, fearing what might happen to the temperamental elder wood wand. "I would recommend the one that bonds to you Harry, and if n-"

"We will be getting both wands, even if Harry is not allowed to touch the other wand unless needed, I would rather he be protected in case your fancy stick breaks for some reason. They seem rather flimsy to me." The muggle police chief brashness and commanding air coming out icy in the man's tone. Olivander took one look at the muggle in his shop before deciding that it would not be worth the trouble.

"For both the wands and a care kit, as well as a long term storage box for the second wand will cost 25 galleons. 5 for the case, 9 for the holly wand, another 2 for the care kit, and the rest for the elder wand."

"25!" Henry nearly growled at the man, "You said that this wand was not only made of some of the rarest materials, but was also made by your grandfather and practically unsellable for all these years. I know you wish to be rid of it, and I know you think you can make a pretty penny by playing up the value of the materials and skills required. I will offer you 20 for all of it. I feel that would make you a profit, without having to take from a boy that would know no better."

"You don't understand exactly what goes into the making of a wand. Every wand in this shop takes time and extraordinary magical effort to craft. I would be insulting my grandfather if I did not sell the wand as if it were a piece of him." The twinkle was back in Gerrick's eyes as the muggle tried to protect a boy that was not even his own blood, from a system he himself did not understand. "However... You are correct in that I would hate to see such work go to waste sitting unused in my shop. I will give you the case and care kits at a discount, if young Harry promises the next time I see him, he allows me to inspect the wand and that I will be satisfied with the care he has taken protecting such a unique wand."

"Deal. Right Harry." Henry said, counting out 20 golden coins for the two wands.

"Of course. It may well save my life one of these days if you are correct about what a wand like this brings to its' wielder." Harry stated quietly before pausing in thought for a moment, "Could you show me how to use the care kit and show me a good way to store it on my person? My pockets don't seem quite deep enough to carry the wand without it slipping out and dropping to the floor."

"Of course. Of course. You take this fine cloth from the kit, the soft purple one, and put a drop of this oil here…."

Henry began to think he still got ripped off, despite his best efforts. He would have to attempt to figure out the conversions into pounds later to see just how much money he spent on the rare wand. He had to agree that the wand did seem important to Harry and was fine with paying whatever price needed, He simply did not want to seem like a pushover just because he couldn't use magic. Once they walked out of the shop Harry and Henry both waited for the Scottish professor to find them, knowing a single step away from the door would sweep them away from the earlier specified instructions of the stern woman. It only took a moment for the professor to find them again.

"Ah. There you are. I see it took nearly as long as I suspected it would. Best be off to get the last of your supplies. I saved this last part for you as I knew you would want to look around yourself." Minerva said as she approached them, practically dumping a cauldron and trunk filled with school supplies into Henry's arms. Henry didn't even grunt as he easily lifted the cumbersome supplies.

"A trunk Minerva?" Henry said with an amused smirk. "Why would Harry need a trunk when he could just use my old duffle bag?"

"I doubt the bag would be sufficient for nearly nine months of clothing and other necessities for the school year." Minerva responded patiently. "Didn't you read over Harry's required supplies list?"

"Oh.. Er… No. I didn't." Henry admitted with an embarrassed shrug. "Nine months huh? Guess you'll only be around for summer. I'm sure John and Suzie will appreciate having their own rooms while you are off to Hogwarts. Where is Hogwarts anyway?"

"Scotland. It's a castle hidden from muggles between a forest, lake, and mountain. I'm certain I can find you a copy of the schools rather extensive history in Flourish and Botts. The same place Harry will be getting his books for the new year."

Henry merely grunted, both in answer, and as he had to deftly lift the rather heavy cauldron over the head of a young girl, while twisting to make sure the trunk did not hit the young witches mother, the motion somehow looking both clumsy and calculated, as everyone involved was impressively untouched by his cumbersome luggage.

It was obvious when Harry spotted the bookstore, as he suddenly ran from the adults and silently slipped into the book covered building, having never seen so many books at once. Minerva simply smiled at the boy's thirst for knowledge and followed diligently after her charge, having already deemed Dumbledore incapable of sufficiently giving the child the time needed.

Harry practically flew around the book store, first picking up a few books that caught his eye on magical theory and history, then finding some books on wards, and enchanting. While he was looking at the books on enchanting he noticed something strange. It was all based on applications of charms rather than changing the properties of objects using magic. He decided that must be the 'foundational' topics, as many of his teachers told him when he asked why he needed to do mathematics problems a special way when he could get the answer in his head faster. He kept the book anyway and continued his search. He finally reappeared at the checkout line with all his picks for interesting books, a good dozen stacked neatly in his arms, before searching out Henry. He was rather easy to find being the most normally dressed man in the room, thus ironically standing out more than anyone else. Henry caught Harry's gaze for a moment, before shrugging slightly and gesturing to a small corner that was not filled with people. They both made it over to the silently agreed upon meeting place before Henry set down the cauldron in his right hand and reached to get the coin pouch from the inner pocket of his buttoned jacket, as he would feel it most easily there and figured it would be less likely to be stolen in the busy alley. He retrieved the rather heavy pouch and slipped it into Harry's pocket with a wink before picking up the cauldron and gesturing to the boy he would be outside so that Harry wouldn't need to deal with any more noise in the already deafeningly loud shop. Harry nodded and walked to the line, staying a step behind a small family with what appeared to be another new student to Hogwarts based on the content of man's arms as he struggled to balance similar supplies to what his own father carried for him. The line went quickly and smoothly, as an older man behind the counter quickly levitated stacks of books from a back room out to the counter and relayed prices with the boredom of someone who has done so a million times already. Once Harry found himself at the front the man turned and asked "Pleasure or school?" without even glancing at him, still cleaning the counter of the coins and written receipts from the last customers.

"Both." Harry said as loud as he dared. It was still barely over the volume normal people used to talk to someone next to them but was sufficient for the man behind the counter to hear. His expression changed slightly, interest showing for the first time.

"What do you ha-" He started before seeing the large stack of books, and the very thin boy struggling slightly to lift the stack to nearly head level where the counter was set. The man quickly flicked his wand and the books lifted themselves onto the counter for the boy. Harry watched in slight amazement as the magic changed shape and color before him and carried away his burden effortlessly. "Careful with the books boy! Many tomes in this shop are rather rare and expensive!... Now then what do we have here…" He looked over the stack of books, reading and marking down titles on a roll of parchment. Numbers went next to each title and eventually he asked while writing, "What year for school books?"

"First year sir." Harry replied, again raising his voice to be heard. The man stopped writing and finally looked at the boy in front of him. He had heard Harry Potter would be starting his schooling soon, but the sickly child in front of him couldn't possibly be the child from the stories. His hair and eyes matched the description, even if the hair was longer and calmer than the untamable rats nest people expected. It was not that which surprised the old shop keep, it was the sheer number of scars marring the visible skin. A crisscrossing of scars marred the child's skin in horrible patterns, nearly covering the once prominent lightning bolt scar on the boy's forehead. The white lines stood out prominently against the slight tan of the boy's skin from the summer, and made the boy look nearly tortured. It took the shop owner only a few moments to gather himself again and say "Ah. Of course, Mister Potter. I apologize for not recognizing you. It is quite busy after all. I will get these rung up for you in only a moment." He said, scratching out some lines with a quill and reducing the numbers he had previously been tallying by a good few galleons each, before adding one line with the words 'First year set'. "Yes, lets see… will you be buying or renting your school books this year sir?"

"Buying."

"Very good sir." The shopkeeper said before adding another number and tallying the total. "That will be 8 galleons for the school books, and another 9 for the books you picked out, totaling to 17 gallons." Harry simply nodded and began taking small stacks of golden coins from the pouch. Harry went to grab the books off the counter, only to realize the stack would simply topple as soon as he got his hands on it with the 8 books the shopkeeper added to the already precarious stack of books. He saw earlier that the shopkeeper made magic lift the books for him and decided there would be no harm asking magic to do the same for him. At that moment the stack of books levitated and hung suspended in the air behind the boy without so much as a wand flick in the direction of the stack. Harry left the store and turned to where his adoptive father waited before anyone could say a word.

"Nice trick my boy. Think you could do the same for your old man?" Henry asked only half joking as he reached for his own burdens. They floated up a moment before he could grab them and began merrily following the boy, smoothly gliding through the air. Henry laughed quietly, ever mindful of the boys problem with loud noise, before telling the boy "Minerva wanted to meet you for lunch so I've decided to invite her to meet us at home. She is waiting by the arch to take us there. We shouldn't leave her waiting much longer, busy as she is."

As it turned out 'busy' was an understatement as the witch was now considerably behind schedule, having already sent out letters to two separate families of muggleborns asking to reschedule their supplies appointments and requesting they combine into one group if possible. She helped Henry and Harry get back into the muggle world and led them back to their car, before being whisked away by magic with a crack.

September 1st came quickly, and the Smith family quickly piled into the car to head to King's Cross station. Harry silently sat in the back seat of the car next to Suzie, who was bouncing excitedly. Minerva told the young girl this was one of the few magical places she would be allowed to accompany Harry and was excited to see the magic train that would be taking her older brother to his special school. Her mother insisted that the train would be a normal train and they were only there to see Harry off for his first year of school at Hogwarts, a name Suzie and Harry both found amusing, but Suzie knew better. She could see the excitement and nervousness in Harry's eyes even if he never outwardly showed his negative emotions. Suzie wanted to show her older brother he was still supported, and they would care for him even when he was going hundreds of miles away for the majority of the year. She would miss him in the coming months and question why should couldn't be in the same classes with Harry, but she knew he was different and that he would always be her brother no matter how different he is. The arrived at the busy train station and it took them a few minutes to decide to park near the back of the lot and walk to the station rather than circle for a better spot. The family enjoyed the exercise anyway. Harry asked magic to lighten his trunks the moment Henry began to lift them out, causing the large police man to topple backwards with the suddenly feather light trunk. Suzie and Jane giggled as Henry glared at the boy, before his face split into a smile and he laughed along with his family.

"Come along then. Harry, take your trunks and ill grab the other supplies. Suzie, hold mommy's hand. Everyone ready?" Henry said brushing off his back and pants, before handing Harry his trunks. They all headed into the station talking about what they expected the school to be like, and making sure Harry had everything he needed. Harry had everything he owned in his trunk and boxes of school supplies, but he figured they were just worried about him and quietly assured them he had everything he needed, without mentioning it was everything he owned. As they approached the pillar marked 9 and 10, they turned to Harry and asked if he was sure this was the place. He replied by taking Suzie's hand and running into the wall, or rather, through the portal that looked like a wall. The parents rushed after their children hoping nobody saw them run through a wall, their parental instincts allowing them to completely ignore the compulsion charms on the wall, supposedly preventing muggles from entering the magical side of King's Cross. What they saw was stunning. The train was ruby red with numerous passenger cars attached. Steam billowed out from the smoke stack before dissipating into the air. They noticed children and adults milling about the platform, saying their goodbyes before the teens and preteens entered the train. Harry turned toward his now present parents and ran to them practically hiding behind Jane as the crowds and noise began assaulting his senses, ripping him from reality and back toward the dark cupboard that was his prison cell for so long. Jane pushed him gently toward the train, knowing that when he got on he would be better. They boarded the train with him and found an empty compartment for Harry, Henry stowed the boys luggage, and said his goodbyes to the still shaking child. Suzie held Harry's hand and Jane held his other while John found the silky black hair fascinating, pulling whatever of Harry's hair the small toddler could grab. This pulled Harry from his fear and he smiled at his little brother despite the slight pain he felt at the pulling of John's surprisingly strong grip.

"Just remember Harry," Suzie started gently, "We will always love you. No one can hurt you anymore. Be brave big brother." And Harry nodded, knowing he would be brave for the curious little girl that saved him from his tormentors.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Train encounters, and the ugly hat of mindreading.

Harry had been hoping for an easy train ride to sit and continue reading his course books. He had already read them once, but he found that a second reading would allow him to catch anything he may have missed and wanted to go over charms again. They seemed the most useful, and while he knew he couldn't do the magic because of the trace on his wand, he could duplicate many of the affects by asking magic to do it for him. It made little sense to Harry that wizards couldn't do what he did, but he figured that it was simply something they didn't know about as they were raised with notions of laws of magic he did not know of. The fact that he broke the laws of magic as most wizards knew them was of little consequence as he knew he had a friend in magic, and that magic liked how he used it. He could see it dance with joy and jump to his every request. His readings were interrupted rather abruptly with a clattering from the door, sounding as if someone ran nose first into the locked compartment door. Sadly, the locks were more for warning than actual privacy as they could be locked or unlocked from both sides of the door, being little more than a latch. The door slid open properly this time to show a thin redheaded boy with obviously carelessly thrown on clothes, his hair in a messy bedhead state of utter chaos, and a set of well used trunks being dragged rather unceremoniously behind him.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full." The boy stated lamely, despite being in the fifth of nearly 25 cars currently on the train, each expanded to hold twelve compartments, at least double the total needed for the current number of passengers, not to mention that if more room was needed, an entire new car would appear making space limitless according to Hogwarts: A History.

"I would rather you didn't…" Harry timidly started as the boy lugged his luggage into the compartment overhead and plopped into the seat across from Harry.

"What was that? Names Ron by the way. Ronald Weasley." The rude redhead stated oblivious to the rather obnoxious attitude and uncouth demeaner he was showing.

"Never mind." Harry stated in a near whisper. "I'll just be leaving, enjoy your compartment." Before hopping up from his seat and pulling his luggage down to cart into another compartment, leaving the rude boy Ron to huff indignantly at being brushed off so easily. Harry did not care much for the company of others, much less the company of loud, rude, and generally unpleasant people like Ron. Harry made his way further and further down the rows of cars as the train left the station, checking periodically for an empty cart to hide away in for the remainder of the near day long trip to Hogwarts. He was nearly to the 8th car when he collided with a blonde girl bouncing out of her own compartment far to excitedly and quickly. They toppled over, Harry instinctively dropping his luggage and attempting to catch the small girl before they toppled to the ground with his maneuvering placing his chest directly under her butt as she came down hard. He silently gasped in pain but held back from shouting, knowing it would only bring more pain when his assailant became aware of his existence again. He did not make a move our utter a sound in protest as the girl uncoordinatedly got off of him in the tight space of the hall, hopping back into her compartment with a red face and rapidly stating repeated apologies. Harry slowly moved to collect his things without paying any attention to what was being said, only wishing to disappear from the scene happening around him. The walls seemed closer than they should be and he fumbled with his trunks before giving up entirely and running down the hall in a panic, his magic gathering his bags for him as he went. He quickly found an empty compartment in the next car and nearly dove into the sanctuary of solitude… only to jump nearly a foot into the air as someone queried "Why did you run?"

Harry quickly spun to see a tall slender girl his age, with raven black hair fell to her mid back, tied up in a pony tail with a few stray strands framing her pale face, with bright blue eyes and a slightly upturned nose her features nearly screamed royalty despite only being 11. Her head was cocked slightly to the side in curiosity but otherwise her face was nearly emotionless in a cold mask of indifference.

"I- I'm sorry?" Harry asked nearly inaudible, practically cowering into the corner as the unknown entity that was this girl strode into the compartment followed closely by the small blonde from earlier and a dark-skinned boy with short curly black hair and a wide mischievous grin.

"I asked why you ran. You did nothing wrong yet didn't say a word before bolting as if Morgana herself was on your heels. I want to know why." The dark-haired girl stated as if she was merely commenting on the weather. Harry sat staring wide-eyed at his now full compartment. He just wanted to get away from one annoying redhead, now he was surrounded by unknowns, and had just knocked one of them over. He panicked a little but decided it would ultimately do him no good to sit saying nothing when they obviously would not leave without answers.

"I don't want any trouble." Harry started nearly inaudibly before adding in a closer to normal speaking tone "I figured I would leave, and it would simply be forgotten in a few minutes, or at least when the trolley came around."

"Well now you have a bit of trouble don't-cha?" The dark-skinned boy started in a joking tone before gasping as a sharp elbow connected with his side. The girl didn't even look at him as she struck. Simply looking at Harry more curiously than before. Harry looked to the ground, his hair fell forward to cover his face like a curtain of raven silk, obscuring his face and clearly advertising his discomfort with this situation. A few moments of awkward silence went by before the blonde squirmed uncomfortable and blurted out "At least you broke my fall pretty well, tho I don't think you needed to do it with your ribs. You're kind of bony. "The dark-skinned boy chucked loudly, and the spell seemed to be broken as the dark-haired girl decided she needed no further questions answered. She sat across from Harry as the blonde girl sat next to the boy, leaving the dark-skinned boy to sit next to the dark-haired girl. "I'm Tracy by the way. I'm really sorry I fell on you. I shouldn't have tried to leap out of the compartment door from the seat, I really didn't think anyone would be walking by and I wanted to see if I could make the jump without touching the ground in the compartment at all. I did by the way. It was super fun and the seats are surprisingly good for jumping." The blonde girl rapidly said, completely oblivious to the wide-eyed look of terror Harry had. This is even worse than the redhead. At least he didn't talk like every word needed to be kissing the last. How anyone could make so much noise was beyond him as even the quietest of shouts was still beyond his ability, much less this incessant rambling form of girl speak. The raven-haired girl seemed to take pity on him and turned to the blonde stating quietly "That's enough, you're scaring him." Her bright ice blue eyes turning back to him and narrowing as if trying to figure out a complicated puzzle. She looked him over for seemingly the first time since entering the cabin and gasped in shock. The blonde however seemed to notice the same thing she did and blurted out with little hesitation "Woah! Where did you get those scars…" Slowly getting quieter before trailing off as Harry flinched and started to attempt to shrink away from the nosey noisy nuisance. The dark-skinned boy glared viciously at the pair of girls before turning to Harry diagonally across the compartment and speaking in a soft tone utterly unusual for the normally brash and joking boy, "I get it man. No need to talk about it for their rude curiosity's sake." Before lifting his robe sleeve a bit to show some rather faint circular scars on his forearm. The boy's eyes connected for a long moment before they both seemed to relax, knowing without speaking they would have each other's back. The boy raised his head to address the girls showing them the yet unnoticed and numerous scars along his face. His bright green eyes seemed to dare them to comment in a moment of uncharacteristic confidence. He just made his first friend in an unfamiliar school filled with only fear and annoyance thus far. He would not lose him due to a couple of girl's stupid comments about things they couldn't possibly understand. They didn't comment, looking rather uncomfortable before the dark-skinned boy tried to save the situation stating unceremoniously "I'm Blaise Zabini by the way." Causing the pale scarred boy to look up at him with his piercing green eyes, uttering a quiet "Harry Potter". There was a momentary pause in conversation before Tracy nearly shouted "Malfoy's gonna love this!" before nearly keeling over with giggles, causing two of her traveling companions to laugh with her, and the final new companion to look at her in utter bewilderment.

After a long quiet conversation about the prominent families who would be looking for a mythically strong orphan boy named Harry Potter and the ramifications of creating 'alliances' as Daphne put it, with each of these families, Harry understood exactly why everyone had the reaction they did to his name so far in the wizarding world and better understood who was actually on his side and who to avoid at all costs. First and foremost, on that list was one Draco Malfoy, and unarguably powerful prick of a pushover-crybaby. Closely followed by only Ronald Weasley of the infamously large and poverty-stricken House of Weasley. It seemed that according to rumor Ronald was a pig and a prick in the full sense of the terms, despite having some of the bravest and most fiercely loyal families in the wizarding world, a fact that the obviously biased groups couldn't help but acknowledge with a hint of jealousy. They also explained the tenuous social dynamic of the house they expected to all go in, Slytherin. Apparently, the upper years and many of the lower years' parents supported a Dark Lord by the alias of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or Lord-Hyphens-A-Lot according to Harry, much to the fearful and amused looks of the group. The followers of the Dark Lord have held a firm hold of the power in the house for decades, allegedly since the Dark Lord himself went to and graduated from the prestigious institution, however no one seems to know the real identity of the monster who took Harry's parents from him. As they spoke about the politicking of the influential families that would be expected in the house of the cunning and the ambitious nature of the house Harry became more comfortable with his chosen group of friends and decided that he could make placement in the house of the ambitious work for him. He burned with vicious desire for vengeance fueled by years of torment at the hands of muggle monsters. He didn't want vengeance on his muggle relatives, nor muggles in general, however. He wanted to kill the monster who started it all. The one who stole his parents from him in front of his very eyes. Harry Potter was on a quest to kill Lord-Hyphens-A-Lot.

It did not take long for the rest of the journey to pass once the group settled down and either chatted quietly or read, and soon the train slowly rolled to a stop outside of a quaint little village with an open wooden platform acting an impromptu train station for the shining red train. The students began to file out of the train onto the quickly crowded platform. A booming voice at the end of the platform began to shout "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Guiding the group of eleven-year old's to one side of the platform. Harry and his newly acquired group of friends began to move through the crowd to the booming voice. It was rather easy to spot the owner of the booming voice, seeing as he was about as large and imposing as his voice, reaching near double the height of even the tallest student still on the platform, with broad imposing figure to match, his bushy tangle of beard and hair reaching down his chest and back over a massive fur coat like a shaggy brown lion's mane. He held arguably the largest lantern Harry had ever seen, rivaling the ornate street lights on Private drive in size and brightness. The giant of a man began to usher the students toward a dock a few minutes' walk to the side of the platform and instructed them to climb aboard "No more than four to a boat". This instruction was met with a mix of excitement and trepidation by the group of forty or so new students as they looked at the dingey dinghies lined up at the dock. As each boat filled to four students the rope was thrown onto the boat by the giant and he reached out guiding the boat away from the dock as if it were merely a large toy boat. As soon as he let go, the boats began to move and arrange themselves along the shoreline of the lake. In a few minutes the fleet of nearly a dozen boats was gently moving across the lake, breaking though the mist that seemed to perpetually cling to the surface of the dark waters. As they exited the last of the mists, excited whispers sprung up as they finally saw their destination for the first time. The medieval style castle seemed to take every new students' breath away in its imposing majesty, twinkling lights in the seemingly well taken care of stone castle twinkled brightly against the night sky, reflecting beautifully on the calm waters of the Black Lake. It wasn't this beautiful sight that took Harry's breath away. It was the powerful wall of magical energy they were rapidly approaching. The layers of swirling color and shapes danced in a symphony of beautiful power in front of Harry as he attempted to memorize the patterns and shapes, he saw, in a desperate hope to be able to remember the intensely powerful magical construct before him well enough to study the function. His bright green eyes narrowed as he tried to place meaning in the swirling symbols he saw before him, barely matching Latin, Greek, and Arabic numeric and symbols with an older Danish rune scheme he remembered seeing in his warding books. It just didn't make sense to the young mage yet as he only vaguely knew the properties of a select few symbols from his train ride readings of the texts he purchased from Diagon. He thought he saw terms for detection and protection spelled out a few times in various languages but couldn't be sure. He was suddenly and abruptly pulled from his thoughts as Blaise shook his shoulder asking "Why are you looking that way mate? Not thinking about swimming back, are you?" a joking tone covering the worry in the boy's voice. Harry looked at him with confusion before shrugging and looking down at his new robes, covering the rather formal uniform the school demanded the students always ware during events and classes. He did not explain what he was looking at, not wanting his new friends to abandon him for his 'freakishness' like anyone else did when he spoke of what he saw. Slowly becoming used to the quiet boy that seemed to have become part of their friends' group on the ride to the school, none of the group commented, instead going back to drinking in the school rising before them. The boats eventually stopped at an elaborate dock at the base of the cliff under the school. The water seemed to grow unnaturally calm as they stood to dismount the boats, forcing the boats to rock as little as possible under the students so they could all easily walk onto the docks without an embarrassing fall. They were led into the castle, into an entrance hall, up a flight of stairs and down another around a few corners and up to large ornate wood doors, tall enough to make even their large guide look small near them. He told them to wait here for a moment before leaving the new years' students alone with no supervision, slipping through a door to the side of the enormous doors. The students immediately began to whisper to each other in excited and nervous tones. One boy with nearly platinum blonde hair slicked back and an arrogant air around him asked if anyone had seen Harry Potter, starting another round of louder, more excited whispers about someone called the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry thought the title was ridiculous and glanced quietly to his friends with a question in his bright green eyes.

Daphne seemed to be the first to realize his unspoken question and slid closer to him to whisper nearly inaudibly "You didn't know did you? Why everyone is looking for you. Why we went over all those potential alliances on the train. Why people want to meet you so badly. I thought you were just trying to keep quiet about it on the train and testing us when we explained it on the train." Harry simply shook his head. He knew from the train ride he was the mythical Boy-Who-Lived, but why everyone seemed celebrate him was a mystery for the boy. All he did was fail to die after all.

She nodded slowly before quickly and quietly reassuring the boy that it meant nothing to the three of them, and they would help protect him from any who would take advantage if they could, showing far more political know how than most eleven-year old's would even consider. Harry smiled a small crooked unsure smile to show his appreciation for his new friends before the doors burst open and a familiar scot hurried out to explain what exactly would happen once they entered the dining hall and how they should act, sending a warning glare toward a specific red headed boy as if expecting trouble from him in particular. She then led them all into the hall in a sort of orderly bunch before stopping them near a stool and walking up the steps herself unraveling a scroll. Harry was caught up thinking about why the heck wizards still used parchment and scrolls, especially for something so mundane as a list of students. Didn't they know how much cheaper normal muggle paper was compared to the awe inspiringly expensive loose parchment they had all the students buy excessive amounts of at the start of the term. He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts on the cost benefit analysis of paper versus parchment when his name was called. Everyone was looking around excitedly, and the professor smiled sadly at him. Nervous trepidation filled him as his mind worked a mile a minute, thinking through the pro's and con's of coming out as the mythic Boy-Who-Lived. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to be in his shared room with Suzie, reading while she talked quietly about her day at school and how she wanted to join the hockey team that winter, instead of figure skating like Jane wanted. He shook himself from the home sick inducing thoughts and stepped forward up the few steps to the chair, as McGonagall lifted the sorting hat patiently waiting for the nervous boy to sit for his sorting. People all over the hall went quiet as they looked at the small boy who seemed to get even smaller as he sat on the seat, his head down and long hair covering his face. Some seemed to mutter in disbelief, obviously comparing him to the stories they heard, others seemed to gawk at the boy as if they were personally betrayed that their hero was a small, scared, scarred boy. They all disappeared as the large hats brim covered his eyes and a voice invaded his mind. "Hmmm. Yes, I see. Now what to do with you…." He nearly jumped as the hat moved, moving his head back and forth a little as it seemed to shake its head… er… brim? In unconscious thought. "Well boy? Nothing to share? No pleads for one house or another? I do take your ideals into account when sorting you after all." Harry hesitantly directed his thoughts to his friends on the train, their fun conversations and educational lessons on politics, the connection through the scars that marred the dark skin of his first real friend. He pushed the memories to the forefront of his mind and tried to convey an idea he and no words for with image and emotion. "I see. There really is no other choice then, Be careful. You may have the blood of Gryffindor's, but you are the embodiment of the best of Hufflepuff, the most gifted of Ravenclaw, and will be thrown to the pit of Snakes in your ambition and loyalty to your friends. Better beee…" The hat thought back to him before shouting loudly "Slytherin!" The hat was lifted from his head, and dead silence met him as he stood and with as much confidence as he could muster walked to the table of silver and green, sliding comfortably across from Daphne and Tracy, smiling toward them as he successfully followed their instruction about showing confidence and poise once chosen for the house of snakes. They smiled in return knowing they will need each other in the years to come. In that moment the cheers of the snakes filled the hall with their echoed pride.

After cryptic announcements about banned object lists, forbidden woodlands, and certain death in a school for children, something Harry knew from his brief time in Suzie's school would attract attention about as fast as the warning signs around construction zones on school grounds, as well as very greasy and fattening feast, they were guided down a maze of corridors that Harry tried his best to memorize until they ended up by a rather nondescript door in the dungeons. Many students were confused by the old stone door in front of them until the snake engraved there began to hiss. "Seems the new blood has arrived. Speak the password." Harry noticed the shivers of those around him as the stone snake addressed them. The prefect said something quietly and the door swung open, allowing entry into an extravagant common room decorated entirely in silver and green, dancing lights reflected off tempered glass and lake water, painting the entire room in dancing greens and blues creating a foreboding feeling for the fledgling wizards. Harry felt the entire common room would either flood or spawn a zombie hoard at any moment. Possibly both. He was jarred from his thoughts as a tall, dark, and greasy figure strode through the door on the side of the common room. His black cloak billowed as he moved, and Harry could see faint lines of green magic assisting in the motions, happily dancing in the obviously temperamental teacher's clothing. Harry had to stifle a laugh at the irony. The figure noticed the laugh however and glared sharply at Harry before continuing into his pre-prepared speech introducing the house and behavior expected of the newly dubbed snakes. Harry listened intently to the brief but demanding list of expectations the teacher had for the young students and noticed that the people around him were unerringly poised and had an air of smug arrogance, or were completely emotionless with an air of indifference deeply set in their poise and posture similar to what he saw from Daphne when they first met during his train-ride tumble. His attention snapped back to the teacher when he stated "You will each have your own separate room and unlike the uncultured dunderheads from the other houses you are not separated into dorms, so choose your position wisely. You are also expected to ward your own rooms in one years' time, as the wards currently in place will be taken down and reformed for the new batch of first years at that time as you move into the corresponding rooms deeper in the dungeons. Basic furniture is provided but can be improved upon if you so choose. Simply call one of the Slytherin house elves to assist. It would be wise to go choose rooms for yourselves as quickly as possible and claim them by touching the nameplate on the door. Off with you." At this point the teacher billowed his way out of the room dramatically, a theatric that was lost on Harry as the little swirls of magic continued to dance and twirl at the professor's feet. He looked to Blaze and the girls before stating in a nearly missed whisper, "Blaze and I on the outside, you two on the inside. It sounds like the girls will need the extra protection." Harry walked down the third hallway and found 4 unmarked doors by the entrance to the hall. He claimed the fourth down, while Daphne claimed the one next door. Blaze dutifully took the one at the mouth of the hall, knowing he was least likely to be a target and thus would be expected to assist his friends as quickly as possible and Tracy took the one next door. Before entering the rooms, the golden specs in Harry's eyes danced as he inspected the wards that sprung up upon claiming the room, as well as the wards that were created on Daphne's door. He was surprised to see they were entirely different in shape and took out a notebook and pen to begin noting down everything he could about the wards. Daphne looked at him strangely as he seemed to look rapidly between her door and his, quickly and neatly writing on two pages in a book simultaneously. Her curiosity got the better of her and she moved to look over the boy's shoulder trying to see what he could possibly be writing. What she saw shocked her to the bone. On the two pages seemed to be the physical manifestation of what her family warding books described, intricately drawn markings in nearly a dozen magical languages interwoven around each other in a spiraling pattern taking the entire notebook pages. She could see the subtle differences in the two pages, but beyond that it was so completely foreign she had no idea what it all meant, much less how Harry, a boy by all accounts new to the magical world, was writing the physical form of invisible wards.

She patiently waited until he was finished writing, positioning herself so that any who entered the hallway couldn't see what he was doing, before dragging him bodily into Tracy's room and knocking on the wall for Blaze. Tracy was unhappy with the intrusion as she hurriedly hid something beneath her pillow and glared at them with a red tint to her cheeks. Blaze rushed into the room a moment later, surprised to be summoned so quickly by his friends, before sitting on the lone chair by the desk, leaving Tracy to sit on her bed with Daphne and Harry to either join them on the bed or sit on the floor. He knew the boy wouldn't mind either option and didn't feel bad in the slightest for taking the surprisingly comfy chair. "Show them." Daphne demanded as he sat, looking meaningfully at Harry's notebook. He shifted uncomfortably and seemed to debate something in his mind, before shrugging and muttering something inaudibly about his stupidity and carelessness. He opened to the first page, a blank sheet of pristine white paper, and flipped to the second page in his book, where he had drawn the wards. His penmanship was exquisite for an eleven-year old as none of the intricate and small lettering ran into the next symbol nor did the entire thing seem warped or squished, but that's not what shocked the pair who had not yet seen it. After a moment of study, they gasped and looked at Harry in amazement. "Dude." Started Blaze, "Is that what I think it is?" He began before trailing off in confusion. "How did you even do that?" he asked with some trepidation in his voice. He knew as well as Daphne that warders had been searching for centuries to find a way to look at wards structure rather than the arithmetical and rune theoretical expected from a given ward scheme. Harry looked on in slight trepidation before bearing his courage and started speaking, his quiet voice wavering the slightest bit, "I didn't think you would understand, and I didn't want to lose my first friends over my freakishness." He took a deep shuttering breath before continuing on with more conviction in his tone in an attempt to make sure they didn't deny him his claim "I can see magic. In all it's forms. That's why I was looking back instead of at the castle. I was trying to memorize the wards we passed. I've been told that's not a normal trait to have. Completely unheard of if _Magical Traits and their Mystical Origins_ is accurate. Feeling magic sure, but seeing it? It wasn't even mentioned in the book as a possibility." Harry knew he could do more than just see Magic, but he didn't want to scare his friends away. In his experience the less normal one is the more quickly they are isolated, shunned, and eventually beaten or killed. A lesson the Dursleys taught him all too well. None of his new friends seemed to want to believe him, yet they sensed no lies in his words. All of them experienced and skilled at knowing when they were being lied to felt that Harry was telling the truth but none of them wanted to believe him as it sounded so impossible. Daphne was the first to react and looked at him skeptically. "So when you were copying down the wards, it wasn't some invented spell or trick. You were actually copying them?"

"Yes." Harry started quietly before his voice became more audible with curiosity and thought. "It was difficult with the extra layer on your door though. Almost didn't fit on the page. I think they want the girls to have an extra layer of protection, but I don't know what it does yet. Not to mention how each of these spherical shapes" Harry gestured to a few circular sections of his drawing "rotate slowly and this section" Harry gestured again, this time to a star shape with intricately placed runes inside one of the circles "moves in the opposite direction of the circles."

"Okay. I believe you. It's impossible and your likely insane but you believe you see magic, and those papers to prove your claim. You will be sharing your findings on the wards with us. It could change everything we know about warding, or at least help us recreate the wards next year." She stated with a tone that broached no arguments. Blaze took the momentary reprieve to ask a question that everyone else was thinking but the girls were too dignified to ask. "Does Snape really use a spell to make his cloak billow like that?" Whatever they were expecting, it was not what they got. Harry burst out into uncontrollable and infectious giggling. It was the loudest sound they had ever heard the boy make. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to regain his composure and gasped out, "Y-Yes. And it looks… hehe… it looks like little dancing lights… hahah… that give off a feeling of joy as they mo.. ha… move by his feet and legs." Before falling onto his side in laughing stitches. The rest of the room tried to imagine what he was describing around his laughter before they joined Harry on the floor laughing.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Classes and Extraordinary Aptitude

Classes began the next morning and Harry was excited. He had already realized that he would not be a normal wizarding student but how extraordinary was yet to be seen. Due to the rather intricate subject that was magic, classes were on a house rotation with each course being shared with one other house. A notable exception was History of magic, as it was taught by a ghost who never took roll and the material was simply on repeat for each week, making it matter very little what class you went to, and electives chosen in third year, as those were scheduled based on number of students enrolled rather than house numbers. Classes would start for Harry with Charms.

The class began simply as Professor Flitwick lectured on safety and responsibility as all teachers were apt to do on the first day with a new class. He then began on the conceptual and theoretical aspects of casting in general planning to demonstrate the levitation charm near the end of class. "Charms, like most other fields of study, is nearly entirely intent based. Proper pronunciation and wand movements are important to honing your skill with casting as well as obtaining proper magical efficiency, however the basis of any spell is the will of the witch or wizard casting. This has been proven time and again over our long history dating back to the time of Merlin a time before magical study was institutionalized and magical academy or acadamaidh dhraoidheil were born. At this time staff magics were still studied and wandless, or focus-less magic as they called it, was more widely practiced despite its notable lack of potency. Who can tell me why the staff fell out of use over a thousand years ago?" The professor didn't have to wait long for a hand to shoot up in the Ravenclaw section of the class. He nodded to the young boy who stood and stated "Staffs fell out of favor due to their unwieldly nature conflicting with the growing need for secrecy and hiding a mages nature. Muggles began to fear the witches and wizards and blamed them for every malady or hardship they faced thus leading to the hunting of mages in general." He smiled smugly as he sat. The professor on the other hand smiled at the boy's participation rather than his answer. "A partially correct answer. What I was looking for however was the fact that staffs, being large unwieldly but undeniably powerful foci, were ill-suited for everyday use. You see, at the time of Merlin when staffs were at their highest popularity the world was in a constant state of flux and battle. This led to the further development of battle magics like those you will learn about in your upcoming defense classes. Staffs while more powerful than wands were also much more dangerous both to the caster and his enemies. You see, it is much easier to overpower a spell when using a staff to cast and thus, harder to control the magic. We use wands to learn control over our power and eventually become more efficient and precise with the magical energies we control, thus allowing us to use more delicate forms of magic. I believe a demonstration is in order. Wands out everyone." There was a flurry of movement as everyone took out a wand. The professor continued without interruption. "Watch closely as I demonstrate the levitation charm, Wingardium Leviosa. The image one should keep firmly in their minds is that of the object lifting into the air. You can imagine supporting it as you will, be it magic supporting it, air supporting it, or it supporting itself, it matters little in the long run so long as you find something you can firmly hold in your mind. The movement is a swish and flick, like so." The professor pulled out his own wand and with slight exaggeration and slowness he did not normally use in the charm he swished his wand and flicked it at a feather laying on his desk. "Wingardium Leviosa" He incanted clearly and loudly for the benefit of the class. His feather lifted gently off his podium and flew gracefully into the air. The feather swirled and danced in the air at the whims of the professor, even tickling a boastful Slytherin student who did not quite pay enough attention to the lesson being taught. Harry watched in fascination as the magical currents in the world supported a feather forcing it to dance and sway by the motions of the professor. The feather eventually landed on the desk again, only to duplicate itself enough that each student got one and they all shot out to the individual desks of the students. "Now then. I will be walking the classroom to assist with your casting. Please begin and feel free to assist your peers once you have mastered the charm. I will announce the end of the class so you are not late for your next course."

The classroom erupted into such a cacophony of noise and action. Harry felt like he was being physically assaulted. His vision blurred and he was once again back in the prison of the Dursley home. He silently shook in terror and pain as he relived one agonizing experience after another. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as he sat unmoving in his seat near the back of the Slytherin section of the classroom. As suddenly as the flashbacks began they stopped as Daphne grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his bicep, the real pain dragging him forcibly away from his tormentors and into the real world where a few students seemed to sense something was wrong. The room quieted into hushed whispers highly unusual for first years first attempts at magic, cluing the observant professor that something was amiss. He scanned the room with a calculating gaze before he landed on the terror struck student in the back of his classroom. Flitwick immediately noticed the tear tracks tracing over some of Harry's more prominent scar lines, creating a haunting image that would stick with the teacher for many years to come. He rushed as quickly as he could up to the top row and stood next to Harry inquiring in the usual professional manner a teacher learns over years of experience, just enough care to be taken seriously by the student but not enough that they feel pitied. He then noticed the panic start to fade and coherency regained its hold within the young man's mind. Harry simply looked at the wizened teacher, picked up his beautifully crafted Elder wand, wordlessly preformed the charm perfectly, and asked to be dismissed from the lesson nearly inaudibly. The professor nodded his agreement and assured Harry he could speak with him anytime if he needed. Harry nodded, packed his notebook and pens, and left. He knew he would need to explain to Daphne what happened as she would demand information from him as soon as they were relatively alone. Blaze would understand but Tracy and Daphne would just look at him with pity again. He didn't need pity. He needed silent support. As he reached the door he turned and looked at Blaze meaningfully, a look only another tortured soul would catch. Blaze nodded. Harry left, whispers followed in his wake. Blaze managed a shaky levitation a few minutes later and nearly ran from the classroom to catch his newest friend. Harry and Blaze walked silently to their next class, taking comfort in the support the others presence provided.

By the time the other students began to gather the transfiguration classroom the rumors had somehow already spread to the entire school. One group had decided that Harry feared magic, another decided he had somehow become traumatized by a flying accident and couldn't stand the sight of anything floating unassisted. A select few even thought he might be a squib scared of everyone knowing and had Blaze cast the charm for him. None of them were correct of course, it was the noise of the classroom. Harry knew he couldn't continue his classes like this and began to plan a way to ensure that this disadvantage would not interfere with his schooling. He remembered reading somewhere that one should never let school get in the way of their education. He would have to talk to his teachers about it but he was sure most of them would understand when he approached them, and if they didn't he would just need to show a few of his worse scars. He would prefer it didn't come to that, as he didn't like the idea of guilt tripping his professors, but he knew he couldn't do what he did in primary school and just cover his ears. There were more students in these classes and the noise of incantation was a cacophony not to be ignored. As the last student left the transfiguration classroom he quietly asked Blaze to block the door for a few minutes and walked into the room. He was surprised to note that Minerva was not in the room. Then he noted the cat relaxing languidly on her desk. He smiled as he noticed the cat's aura was the same as when he looked at Minerva when she introduced him to the wizarding world. He approached the cat on the desk and quietly stated "Professor. I need to speak with you regarding a… difficulty I am having in class. It may take a few moments to explain." The cat looked at him curiously and nodded, before leaping off the desk and changing mid air into the familiar Scottish woman he knew her to be. "You have only had one class thus far Mr. Potter. What could be such a problem that you felt your second teacher needed to be informed before even experiencing the differenced in the class?"

"You know about my… treatment at the hands of the Dursley's correct? Or at least the after affects visible on my skin for everyone to note." Minerva nodded and he continued, "I learned from a very young age that making noise lead to pain. This later evolved into a deep set connection between noise, and pain. In my previous class I experienced how… hectic a classroom of students all attempting to cast a spell is. During the first casting exercise in Professor Flitwick's class I had the unfortunate experience of a regression so to speak. I feel it would be unsafe for my mental health to have a repeat of this every class of every day for the next nine months."

"Yes. I can see how that would be detrimental to you. I will teach the lesson normally and once the casting practice begins I will place a silencing charm over your desk. Would that be acceptable?"

"That sounds perfect professor, however could I request one other thing before I have Blaze let the rest of the students in? Could I make an appointment with you to learn the silencing charm early? I do not want to have to have all of my professors going out of their way to make up for my deficiencies."

"I believe I will have some time after dinner tonight as I have no plans on assigning homework on your first day. Meet me here after dinner Mr. Potter. However, before I release you I would ask you to see Madame Poppy after our lesson. She is a trained healer and if you approach her and tell her about your past it may help. Do we have an agreement?"

"Of course Professor. If you trust Madame Poppy I will attempt to trust her as well. Thank you."

"Then please take a seat Mr. Potter and try not to tell anyone about my Animagus. We still have a few minutes to class and I want to at least attempt to keep to tradition." Minerva stated with a smile before a cat sat in her place and jumped back onto the desk. Harry ran over to the door and knocked quietly once letting Blaze know it was ok to let people in again. He opened the door and followed Harry to a table. Daphne and Tracy joined them a few moments later and they waited patiently for class to start. Just after everyone was settled a familiar redhead burst into the classroom exactly one minute late for class and seemed to sag in relief before sauntering over to another Gryffindor and loudly stated "Man that was close. Could you imagine the look on old McGonagall's face if she caught me late on the first day? That would blo…dy…" He trailed off as the cat once again jumped off her perch on the well crafted and worn desk at the front of the room and transformed into the previously mentioned professor. "Is there a particular reason you are late for my class Mr. Weasley?"

"I.. Uh.. I got lost after looking for Scabbers. He jumped out of my pocket between classes and…." The redhead trailed off awkwardly as he noticed the unimpressed look he was receiving from Professor McGonagall.

"Then perhaps I should transfigure your rat into a map, so that you may be on time to my next class?" Her rhetorical question was met with silent shame and a hint of fear. "Have a seat Mr. Weasley so that we may begin class." She stated with a sigh before starting her lecture for the day. As Harry took notes he began to notice subtle similarities between charms and transfiguration. He made a few notes in the margin and when there was a question asked by a fellow student he grabbed his charms notebook and made similar notes in the margin of that book as well, neatly labeling them and writing sideways to ensure he had enough space. Once he was finished he realized a few key things. Magic was entirely based on intent and will to use, not a major discovery as that was simply the overlap between the lessons. This however did make him understand that due to his rather tragic upbringing he was able to "ask" magic to do what he wished because it was the only thing he _knew_ he could control, and knowing magic would do whatever he desired of it made his will and intent one and the same force. He quickly scratched out any note that stated he could not do something with magic, as this would only weaken his connection with magic, and vice versa. On a whim he looked over one of the major laws of magic, one surprisingly close to a physics law he remembered reading about in his muggle school, "Magic cannot be created or destroyed. Only changed." He looked deeply into himself completely tuning out everything around him and searched for his magic. He knew there was a reason for the connection wizards had because he has seen it before. He began to feel the magic around him, a subtle tingling on his skin and warmth in his chest. No. Not just his chest. In his entire being. He opened his eyes again and looked at his hand as if seeing it for the first time. Little lights swirled and danced around him as it usually did, but he could see small bits of the energy dancing its way into his body, flowing with his blood and spreading into and around him. He could also see similar amounts of magical energy seeping out of him changing color and form to match the magic ambient in the air around him. He looked curiously at the magical energy leaving him and attempted to will it to stay within him. Slowly the magical motes began to abate their journey out and only seep into him. He held on to the thought of keeping the magic inside him and looked at himself once more. Satisfied that magic was indeed staying inside him he looked into himself again and attempted to feel the flow of magic in his body. He noticed a few things different this time. The magic never stayed still in a "core" like the magical theory stated, but rather moved within him similarly to the blood in his body. He also noticed that the magical energy seemed to _want_ to fill him, as if finding a home within his body. He shrugged at the odd way magic showed him its content and refocused on the lecture, as the teacher had finished with the questions and was demonstrating how to turn a matchstick into a needle. Harry missed the words of the spell but was unconcerned, he had never needed words before why should he now? Matchsticks were passed out to the class shortly and Professor walked over to Harry's table and cast a spell with a flick twist and flourish of her wand. The sound died around them and she nodded to Harry. The class erupted into motion, but the noise was entirely canceled by the pearlescent barrier around Harry and his three companions. At least it looked pearlescent to Harry.

"So that's what you were talking to McGonagall about. Clever solution to your issue with noise." Blaze stated with some appreciation. Daphne looked rather pleased with Harry's solution as well, adding on "Looks like you do have some Slytherin in you after all. I was starting to think you belonged in Ravenclaw."

"How about we just start on the spell so we can get to lunch. I'm starving." Tracy stated before making her first attempt. The matchstick took on a slight metallic hue, but other wise was unchanged. Daphne and Blaze had similar success, or rather lack there of. Harry looked at his match stick, and began to visualize the change he wanted. Before he could even lift his wand, his matchstick was a perfectly sharp silver needle. He merely raised his eyebrow in silent surprise. His three friends on the other hand were much more vocal about their surprise. "Bloody hell man, are you gonna make us look bad in every class now? I didn't even see you do the incantation and movements!" Blaze complained bitterly in a low tone of dismay.

"Magic just likes me I guess." Harry stated with a completely serious face, distracted by a dozen different theories as to why magic responded even faster to his will than before. Blaze and the girls started to laugh before awkwardly stopping when they realized it wasn't a joke. Daphne's blood boiled with the perceived insult and nearly growled in an uncharacteristic display of emotion "What exactly do you mean by that."

Harry suddenly was drawn from wilder and wilder hypothesis by an overwhelming sense of danger. He turned to his female friend and gulped before shakily stating "I didn't mean to insinuate you are weak. I just mean that the collective entity of magic likes me. It understands me, and I understand it. Nothing more." This time it was Daphne's turn to be confused and concerned. "Collective entity? You make it sound… alive."

"It is alive. Don't worry it likes you to Daphne, you just don't understand it like I do." Harry stated before adding on as an afterthought "I don't think anyone understands Magic like I do."

Class continued like normal after that. Harry attempted to explain how he changed the matchstick into a needle but seemed unable to get his perception of magic to match his friends and was unable to help them very much. He instead changed what he was thinking about and tried to change the shape, metal, and even weight of the object. Everything he imagined seemed to work for him, but he did learn a few things. First, if he held the image more clearly and use his wand to direct the magical energy, it took less energy to obtain a greater affect. Specifically, when he wanted to change one aspect such as weight without adjusting the size, or vice versa. Second, as he used magic it was not only the magic in his body, he used but the magic around him. The last thing he learned, or rather had pointed out to him by Daphne, was when he used neither hand nor wand to cast, his eyes would glow a vivid gold tinted green for a moment as the magic was cast. It concerned him that there was an outward appearance of his magic, despite none of his friends ever hearing of anything similar, but Harry decided it was not important. Class ended fairly soon, and Harry nodded to Professor McGonagall before leaving. He decided he was not hungry and wandered toward the medical wing, occasionally asking a portrait or ghost for some directions. He eventually arrived at a large room with a few dozen beds equipped with side and end tables, as well as wrap around curtains. A lady with pristine white and red robes stepped out from an office nearly as soon as he passed though the small ward over the threshold of the large doors. "Ah. Mr. Potter. I hadn't realized you would be coming directly after class. Minerva just told me you would be coming after all. Come into my office."

"Yes ma'am." Harry muttered, walking calmly into the small but cozy room. There was a normal teacher's desk in one corner with a few chairs and a couch across from it. The other wall was taken up entirely with a well labeled potion cabinet. Large glass doors were locked together with what looked like wards to Harry, giving the appearance of a glass mosaic to his sensitive eyes. Just as he began inspecting the ward for similarity to the wards he wrote in his notebook last night, Madam Pomfrey sat and offered Harry some tea, biscuits, and chocolate. It served as an effective distraction as he had yet to eat lunch. As he sipped his tea and quietly nibbled a biscuit Madam Pomfrey stated clearly and softly "It is my understanding you may need someone to speak with whom you can trust implicitly to either work with you or simply listen to you in the hopes that you will be better able to cope with the past. I want you to know that if these meetings become a regular thing as I expect Professor McGonagall wishes, I will not divulge any information you present to me unless it is absolutely necessary for medical related emergencies. I have taken a magical vow that will hold me to that promise as have all other trained mediwitches. That being said you never have to tell me anything you do not want to. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am. It is the same thing the non-magical Phycologist told me, as well as the other specialists I have seen."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry suddenly stated "I won't be a normal case for you. At least I hope I won't be. I wouldn't wish what I have endured upon anyone." He noticed a kind of change in the mediwitch's demeanor before she nodded at him, a kind sad smile gracing her otherwise passive face. "I will think no differently of you for the actions of others Harry. I just want to help." And with that, Harry began to explain.

Harry did not leave the hospital wing for nearly an hour once he began talking. He tried to explain the past in a detached tone. Speaking as if it was distant history rather than actions that ended only two years ago, but no matter how he phrased it the story haunted him, and he walked to the great hall with a proverbial cloud hanging over his head. His bright eyes were dulled with sorrow and pain once thought buried only to reappear at the slightest mention as if a fresh wound. He sat silently among his peers and ate with robotic detachment as he once again began to bury his pain and fear. The hall was eerily silent since he came in, harsh whispers carrying far in the large space as few young students learned that a whisper carries much farther than a softly spoken word. He could hear what they had to say but cared little, he had been called worse, and consistently punished for other's actions before. Rumors no longer brought him worry as the pain was an expected old friend now. Unwelcome, but expected all the same.


End file.
